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Poetry

1st September 2022

Poetry

1 minute read

Lenka Kuhar Daňhelová

Waning

translated by Bob Hýsek

1st September 2022

1 minute read

The sun is blood red and slowly

turns golden as I make the morning bed

too big for one.

Birds scream wild over one another

in the garden as they peck

the ripening elderberry,

precious beads.

It’s still summer

but it’s waning.

 

Our voices ring with desire;

in the scorching afternoons

over the grass crackling dry,

the air stands heavy.

written by

Lenka Kuhar Daňhelová

More about the author

Issue 02

Crave

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translated by

Bob Hýsek

More about the translator

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